Family friendly. Camp. Men in drag. As an American in Britain, my knowledge of pantomime was clearly limited when I walked into Hackney Empire to watch Aladdin a few weeks ago. I walked out forever changed and feeling more British than ever before.
After living in London for three years, this festive period felt like the right time to experience this most uniquely British art form. So I booked not one but two trousers – first in Hackney and then at the Broadway Theater in Catford – to really immerse myself in the world of ladies, best boys, fairytale princes and princesses and, erm, someone called Buttons.
So first came the Empire, and there was no doubt about which show we were seeing: as I entered the venue, a huge pink backdrop screamed Aladdin’s name in gold. Around me, families excitedly took their seats, and there was a sense of real anticipation.
The Hackney Empire panto is one of London’s best-loved films and is now directed by Clive Rowe, who also plays the Lady (this year he played Widow Twankey). But the night I broke my panto duck, he made an unscheduled appearance before the curtain went up.
With a full face of make-up and a dressing gown, he announced that the actor who played Aladdin was too ill to continue. Just like his understudy. Instead, the production manager would take on the role. Oof…
But as is the mantra in British theater – and this is the most British thing in theater – the show had to go on, and somehow it did. In fact, the disruption that would have killed most straight shows only added to the glorious chaos that began to unfold around me.
A large cast bounced onto the stage and immediately burst into song in front of brightly colored sets of fairytale scenes. At first I was baffled, what was this anyway?
I’m a West End junkie and regularly visit some of the best examples of theatre, especially musicals, in this or any other country. As I sat in this room in East London, Aladdin was unlike anything I had seen before. It was just so…loose! So… bizarre! So… relax! And to embrace the spirit, I realized that I too just had to relax and go with it.
As most readers will know, panto stories are drawn from well-known fairy tales such as Cinderella, Aladdin and Jack and the Beanstalk – but the writers strengthen some characters, add several – normally for comic effect – and of course throw in a few extra to. twists and turns, as well as a truckload of jokes. Good jokes, bad jokes, dirty jokes, all piled on top of each other.
Before I went I had had a wobble before when I had read up on panto history and it turned out that early forms were silent. Would I be subjected to hours of wordless gesturing, a thought that sounded worse than pulling teeth? Fortunately, there are worlds, lots of them, and they have been around since the mid-1800s. Funny, witty, cheeky words with relatable themes and undertones of larger issues. Relief.
These disorganized fairy tales are not only full of humor, but also social satire. Three years in London meant I got all the jokes about the economy and why a South Londoner wouldn’t dare live north of the river. In my second panto, Jack and the Beanstalk at Catford, there were consistent references to the cost of living and there was an antagonist called Boris the Cockroach. Every time he introduced himself, the audience shouted “lying cockroach.”
Another difference from the West End, and what makes panto truly magical, is the audience participation. So many children get their first theatrical experience through panto, and it is such a warm, inclusive experience that it can inspire a lifelong love of live performance.
It took Aladdin’s first act – and the sugar from almost a pint of Coca-Cola – for me to become an active participant. “Boo!” I shouted and got up from my chair. The villain had declared himself a Tottenham fan. Not on my watch.
As the show progressed, more and more screams came from around the house. “He’s behind you!” “Oh no, he’s not!” “Oh yes, that’s him!” “Boo!” “Flutes!” “I wish you would be so naughty.” And by my second panto I was all in. A packed room of enthusiastic participants making roaring responses on stage brightens everything up.
As I sat in the stalls of Catford Broadway, I began to see common themes and tropes. A favorite is bringing an audience member on stage – it’s absolute gold. As seasoned pantogoers know, the Lady is always the one who has to choose and she naturally tends to pick the most uncomfortable-looking man in the audience (men, you have been warned).
Although the first conversation is flirty, fun, and peppered with sexual innuendos, it doesn’t stop there. I was so happy to see the Lady shamelessly flirting with her victim for the rest of the show. His discomfort was a comedy for all.
Actually, there’s nothing like a Dame – my favorite part of panto. A man dressed as a woman whose outfit could walk the carpet at the Met Gala – yes queen! Of the Dames I saw, they both delivered cheeky one-liners and went about their domestic duties with motherly charm (Derek Elroy played Dame Dolores in Catford). They passed out sweets and sometimes they both had their underwear on full display. Which virtuosos…
At the end of the pantos I was elated when all evil turned to good. Surprisingly, I didn’t expect this, because traditional fairy tales don’t end like this. The worst thing that happens to the villain in panto is a pie in the face or them getting soaked by a water gun. It’s appropriate for a production aimed at festive family fun. The hero saves the day, of course, and the fabulous Lady finds love – and I think that’s great for her.
Panto in its original form may have emerged from commedia dell’arte, but modern performances feel quintessentially British end-of-the-pier fun. And yet I think American audiences would embrace it – some of the jokes might need explaining.
Even after seeing two pantos, when an American friend asked what the art form was, I wasn’t sure what to tell her. It is something that must be experienced. It’s messy, chaotic and silly, but you’ll leave with a smile on your face and a vibrant love for British theatre.
Both Aladdin and Jack and the Beanstalk are done, but there are still pantos running around London this month